Freaks on Parade

Hey Kids!

So, I get to a party for the NYC Fringe Festival and its totally living up to everything I expected.  Freaks on parade.  Don’t gimme wrong.  I’m at the party too, but lets be honest.  There are actors and there are thespians.  Those kids at school who did theatre and those kids in school who were theatre.   I’m not saying I’m too cool, I’m just saying I showed up with a leather jacket and a few postcards to network and they showed up in sequined tuxes and a few puppets.  I ordered a grey goose soda, they ordered something “fruity and cheap.”  I actually heard a 40 something year old man with wire glasses and a back pack say this.  I assumed he probably wrote and directed some musical about fairies in the 18th century or was the uni-bombers gay cousin.

BUT, I gotta give it up.  One thing those crazies did have going for them was shameless hawking.  While I showed up with a couple dozen postcards, they showed up with a couple hundred thousand.  I soon realized that I may drink nicer vodka, but those losers had me beat on the marketing tip.  T-shirts, posters, postcards, cup holders, signs.  I tucked into the bathroom to brainstorm a last minute marketing ploy and emerged with a carefully nestled postcard squeezed into my sparse but nicely tanned cleavage.  About that time I turned the corner and ran smack into foxy guy.  He and I looked like we belonged at a different club.

“Nice digs,” I said noting his leather jacket.
“Nice sign,” he said noting my boobified postcard.
“A thank you very much!”
“What you drinking?”
“Vodka Soda.”
“Up for another one?”

I liked this guy: always drinking, always buying.

“Sure,” I said with lackluster flirtation.  I could slack in this crowd.

After another drink we went outside to smoke a cigarette.  God bless a man who smokes the occasional cigarette.  I hate full-time smokers, I am not a full-time smoker.  It smells and is generally disgusting.  BUT well placed, a social cigarette can make a night. Mainly because It  breaks up the monotomy of drinking.  This has several benefits: a) It slows you down on the tipsy scale, but keeps you from looking like a pussy b) If you only smoke occasionally then you are sure to get a little nicotine buzz…which is nice. c) It serves as a perfect excuse when you want to get away from someone annoying, but most importantly d) it serves as a perfect excuse when you wanna get QT with someone who is on your radar.  This time we made sure to swap numbers.
Yet,  as we were standing on the even keeled sidewalk of New York’s Gay Ass Chelsea neighborhood, I noticed something crucial.  He was a bit short.  I never intended on making anything out of foxy guy, but still.  Somehow after numerous years of bad relationships with short guys (I can say this because I really gave ‘em a go), I have to say I find it a bit unattractive. Not in a personal way, I’m just tired of feeling rude just because I want to He tried to coax me out for a late night hang, but I’d already made up my mind.

I fought off two drag queens and a zombie puppeteer to get a cab, but made it back to the hotel in time to get a solid 6 hours.  Just as I was about to drift off I recieve a text from foxy guy that read “Good to see you again.  Too short though.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself.


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